The Man and the Eagle
by Karaya 1
Summary: [Part II] The Second Usean Continental War was the battleground of another legendary ace. Mobius 1 staked his claim as one of the true masters of aerial conflict during the year long struggle. But, who was this mythic pilot that turned the tides of utter defeat into total victory? This is the real story of Mobius, the true eagle of Usea. [Slight AU]
1. The Wild Frontier

**AN/: I'm back baby! That's right, Karaya 1 has returned to bring you not one, but two chapters of my long-promised story, The Man and the Eagle. This is the story of Mobius 1, which I've taken my own little twist on. AC:04 was the very first Ace Combat game I ever played and I'm excited with all the potential it has for stuff like this. Without further ado, here is the first chapter! IF YOU HAVEN'T READ HOUNDS OF WAR, CLICK ON MY NAME AND GO READ IT. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU DO SO.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I am deviating from the set dialogue, since Mobius 1 actually can SPEAK.**

* * *

 _"But to fly is just like swimming. You do not forget easily. I have been on the ground ten years. If I close my eyes, however, I can again feel the stick in my right hand, the throttle in my left, the rudder bar beneath my feet. I can sense the freedom and the cleanliness and all the things which a pilot knows." Saburo Sakai-WWII Japanese Ace, member of the famous Tainan Air Group and 'Cleanup Trio'._

Ch.1 The Wild Frontier

* * *

A lot of people think they know war. The way you fight it, the way you win it….thousands of books have been written on the subject, and unfortunately, it still is a valuable skill. I remember a teacher at my secondary school once telling me, 'If a man can not stand a long war, undoubtedly, he can not stand a long peace.'

It is an utterly true maxim.

The place I come from has been chained to the making of war for almost the past decade now. We've grown so hardened to it, it is not even a surprise to anyone anymore. 'Oh yeah, the Erusian bastards bombed Ugellas. But, did you hear about the football yesterday? Bloody hell it was good!' At least to me, it is a rather sad development. Through it all I've tried to remain as positive as I possibly can, but it is rather difficult to. I admit that without any reservations. The world is a twisted place, and I honestly do not know how men have survived the perils of warfare. I watched some of the greatest people I've ever seen shredded by it in a matter of seconds.

And that's all it takes. You make one mistake, one slight half-second of frivolity, and you are finished. In the crapper with a flag draped over you, a little ceremony so your mother can cry her soul away, and an early eternal rest with the worms. Not the most appealing conclusion to a man's life, but it's the way it is.

On the other side of the coin of war, you'll find me, Thomas 'The Butcher' Linke-Byrne. A black haired, brown eyed, 6'1", smooth faced, stone cold fighter pilot, and the epitome of success on the battlefield.

I'm a rather interesting case, d'you know what I mean? I find it rather hard to describe everything I did without going, 'Shit, I did that?!' Today, many consider me to be a hero…and I never felt like it. I just was another one of the boys off fighting another battle against impossible odds. There were moments of triumph and moments of despair, just as any other veteran of the war will tell you. The only difference between them and myself is that somehow, I turned the entire bloody war around with just a handful of pilots. There's a very select few aces who can claim that achievement.

But, being a soldier and all that, I'm not really sure whether to proud about it all or not. I have met quite a few of the guys I fought against and they're just normal people, average lads like me thrown into a war they have absolutely no clue about and are ordered to 'Go kill those bastards over there!'. So, I don't share that whole 'they're all Satan' sentiment that everyone's been throwing around lately, you know? Hell, I could have been one of them if fate had dictated differently, and how would this whole thing have ended up then? A damn lot different, I'll tell ya!

Joking aside though, I wouldn't have traded any of it for the world, besides the killing, _obviously_. Flying has become my life. There is no other way of putting it. It just _is_ me. I knew that….even from the very beginning.

This is the forgotten story of the 5th Carrier Air Wing, the 'Seahawks', and…the story of the 118th Tactical Fighter Wing and myself, Mobius 1. This…is the true telling of the Second Usean Continental War.

- _0730 hrs. September 19, 2004, Somewhere near Newfield Island_ -

"We are all green on the readings," my Radar Intercept Officer, or RIO in the second seat of the massive black and blue F-4S Phantom fighter, called out from behind me, "The old girl's ready to rumble."

"Alright Thumper," I replied, flipping the last of the necessary switches, "I'm good here, taking the stick."

"Roger Butcher," he called back, "Let's get this over with."

The world turned from the pale darkness to the warm, refreshing light as the elevator lifted the Phantom onto the flight deck of the aircraft carrier. This was CV-04, Fort Grace, an FCU carrier that had been my home for the past few weeks. I had only just finished training with my WSO, Johnny 'Thumper' Walsh, when we were called for active duty two weeks ahead of schedule at the age of 25.

The war with Erusea was going poorly for the ISAF, or as we liked to call 'I Shit and Flee'. In their arrogant overconfidence, the coalition failed to realize just how prepared Erusea was for war. And guess what? They were actually rather well-prepared, shock-horror. For almost a year now the ISAF had been 'tactically withdrawing', reducing their troops' morale to pretty much an all time low, setting a record in the process. Or, at least I thought they had.

And now, they were up against the wall. Our tiny contingent of planes was all the alliance had left to stand between Erusea and the ultimate goal of conquering North Point. It was a rather dire situation.

So, when they call up every craft they have left to fend off the inevitable bomber force coming to end it all, and THAT is your first sortie…

You'd have every right to be scared shitless.

And I was. Johnny and I both were. We had no combat hours to speak of whatsoever, and yet, we were the ones being trusted with the fate of entire nations on our very first mission! They definitely should've put that on the job application.

 _To those it may concern, you will have to bail our asses out, by yourselves. What a bunch of nobs._

"Good morning Mobius 1-1 and 1-2," the Air Boss called from the bridge of the Fort Grace, screeching into our tired ears like a banshee, "Line up for approach on catapult 2, over."

"Mobius 1 copies, moving into position," I replied with a sigh, putting the Phantom into motion with ease. The deck wasn't really a flurry of activity. With only three planes to launch, there wasn't really a sense of urgency. Along with the super low morale, let's just say that it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows onboard.

The flight deck director, one of the 'yellow shirts' approached the front of the Phantom and motioned us to taxi into position onto the right catapult, crossing his arms as we were locked into takeoff position. I raised the throttle into the highest non-afterburner power and lowered the flaps into the full position, doing a quick control check with the launch officer or the 'shooter' and flight deck director. Satisfied with how everything looked, I gave a quick salute to the yellow shirts and they gave a thumbs up to the catapult officer, who was under a protective dome barely protruding from the deck at my 11 o'clock.

"All right, this is Mobius 1 ready to go here, over," I called up to the Air Boss.

"Roger, Mobius 1, you are cleared for launch."

The deck was cleared as the shooter moved off to the side as I engaged the afterburners, lowering himself and pointing off to the bow.

WHOOSH.

I was hurled back into my seat as the Phantom accelerated all the way from zero to 170 miles per hour in 2 seconds. In reality, it felt a hell of a lot quicker than that. I grunted hard as I gunned it for the heavens in a clearing turn, forming into a Combat Air Patrol circle at about 25,000 feet above the sea. After about 5 minutes the two other Phantoms in our group, Rapier 8 and Viper 9, joined up in our circle and immediately changed course for Allenfort AFB, the designated intercept point at Newfield Island.

"Yo, Butcher!" I heard the unmistakable voice of Rapier 8, Henry 'Dice' Daniels, calling out with a snark, "Finally getting to the shit now, eh?"

"Oh, you _really_ want to be in the shit Dice?" Thumper yelled back in annoyance, flipping the bird in Henry's general direction, "No wonder you're an ass."

I only heard Dice laugh as I watched my other wingman Viper 9, Cris 'Hammer' Shaw, form up at my 4 o'clock, while Dice locked in at my 8 o'clock.

"How's your bird looking after clipping the island yesterday, Hammer?" I asked as I disengaged my weapons' safeties.

"Like nothing ever happened, honestly," he replied nonchalantly, "Just glad it's fine for today."

Hammer and I thought it would be fun to buzz the island yesterday, mainly to piss off some of the hard-asses we didn't necessarily agree with. The Captain, rather unexpectedly, agreed to it, albeit secretly and would deny any involvement. So, all three of us got as bloody close as we bloody dared to the tower. Hammer got unlucky. There was a big gale that essentially tossed his plane towards the island, his reflexes got him out of there with only a small piece of wingtip gone. He was lucky.

And would we do that again?

Most likely.

"No kidding. Alright guys, let's get going to the intercept point. Those chair force pricks are going to have a damn field day if we're late," I ordered as we all went to cruise speed.

"Yeah, we'll finally get to show them up!" Dice said rather…optimistically.

"You better hope we do, otherwise we're all dead," I snapped back, settling into my seat as we proceeded towards the battlefield.

- _0745 hrs. Newfield Island_ -

"This is AWACS Sky Eye checking in, all craft participating in the operation, report in sequence."

"This is Mobius 1, callsign Butcher, checking in."

"This is Viper 9, checking in, callsign Hammer."

"Rapier 8 here, callsign Dice, ready to kick some Erusian ass."

Thumper and I both groaned at Dice's apparent enthusiasm for combat. We were both desperately hoping his first engagement would finally shut him up for good.

"All navy aircraft are accounted for, air force is now coming onto station," the AWACS called as I watched a three-bird element of F-5E Tigers form up directly to our three o'clock. They looked brand spanking new compared to our bucket of bolts Phantoms, and in that respect I envied them. In other respects…well.

"This is Omega squadron coming on station, Omega 1 reporting in, callsign Roach," the leader called in, he had a pretty deep voice.

Thumper and myself could barely control our laughter at that callsign, I had to disconnect the comms for a second to compose myself.

"Omega 2 reporting in, callsign Meteor," a female voice radioed next rather confidently.

"Omega 11, callsign Fang, checking in," the last one whispered out, the fear grasping onto every syllable he fought to get out.

"You need to speak up Fang, quit mumbling all the time!" Roach shouted angrily towards his wingman.

 _Already we have this…._

"Hey, knock it off Roach. I'm sure he's just got the jitters like everyone else."

"You stay out of my damn business, navy boy."

"Oh really? Well, if you get him killed then it is my business, _asshole."_

"We'll see who's talking when this is over,"Roach cackled back, his voice just pissing me off more and more, "You'll probably be floating in the sea, a bullet in your brain."

"I'm going to personally see you're the one who ends up with that bullet," I calmly spoke back at him, my voice laced with poison, "You say one more thing _pig-shit_ , and you're going to have someone on you who doesn't care about the rules of warfare."

"Go screw with someone else!"

"Get lost!"

"Leave the damn kid out of this!"

"Focus on the Erusians! You're such an idiot!"

This barrage went on for almost a full minute. After the fire died down, Roach admitted defeat and just murmured some expletives angrily to himself as Sky Eye regained control of the comms.

"Get it together people! We have a flight of Erusian six bombers inbound from Rigley AFB, along with two flights of fighter escorts. The bombers are top priority, we can not let them reach North Point. If they do, the war is over. So, a victory today for my birthday sure would be a good change in fortune."

"Happy birthday Sky Eye, sorry we don't have a cake for ya mate," Hammer spoke warmly in contrast to the heated argument as we approached Newfield.

"I think a victory would be just as good, Viper 9," the AWACS controller responded with a chuckle. But there was no betraying the worry in his voice.

I picked up the bombers, old Yuke prop Tu-95 Bears, at our 2 o'clock high in standard formation. The escorts were all in swarm around the big boys, they seemed to be mostly made up of Mig-21s with a few F-5s also interspersed between them.

"Alright Seahawks, let's get the party started," I stated with a nervous and very long sigh. I pitched the Phantom's nose up into a steep climb with Dice and Hammer in tow up to about 35,000 feet. The 'chair' Force guys were going to attack from a different vector, but weren't too enthusiastic about getting into a climb. "Thumper go ahead and get us ready to rock."

"Roger, we are all green on my end, ready to go," Thumper called out, giving me a thumbs up from the back seat.

"Affirmative, let's go ahead and get those bombers taken care of. Hammer, I want you in trail position behind so the escorts don't buzz my ass straight off."

"I got ya, Butcher. Lead the way."

"Good. Dice, I want you up high as secondary back-up. You see anything go for Hammer, smash 'em."

"Roger that Butcher. Let's play for some blood."

I took another deep breath out of what seemed like thousands, desperately trying to calm my mind for the inevitable chaos I was above to punch face-first into.

And waiting wasn't going to make it better.

"This is Mobius 1. Moving to engage the targets. Let's give our boys some breathing room."

I rolled hard into a half Split-S, lining me up into a vertical dive with plenty of options for attack. My eyes latched onto the front two bombers of the formation, and I adjusted my Phantom's position with just a touch of input. I switched my weapons to my longer range AIM-120 'Slammers', locking up the bears within a few seconds.

"Burn 'em Thumper!"

"Firing, Fox 3, Fox 3!"

I engaged the afterburners as the missiles detached themselves from the craft, smashing into the two Bears just seconds before I snaked through the formation in my dive. The shockwave from the blasts pushed the Phantom quite a bit, having detonated most of the bombers' ordinance with the missiles.

"Holy shit, Splash two!" Thumper exclaimed, "What the hell were those guys carrying?!"

"No clue mate, we got other things to worry about!" I shouted back as I glanced up to my rear-view mirror to see a nest of escort fighters bearing down on Hammer and myself. I pulled hard back on the stick, pulling into a Immelmann turn. I glanced back over my shoulder through the maneuver watching the swarm of about six fighters screaming up towards me with several tracer rounds just barely passing by. I gunned it back into the formation, locking up two more of the bombers with my Slammers.

"Fire 'em now!"

"Fox 3, Fox 3!"

The two missiles made quick work of the Bears, blowing the nose off of one and ripping the tail off the other.

"Splash another 2!" Thumper called out.

"Dice! You and Hammer take the rest of the bombers. I'm going to have a little chat with these escorts."

"I copy Butcher," Dice radioed back with the sound of cannon fire in the background, "Just finished bagging my first kill."

"There's plenty more out there, keep hunting!" I ordered as I pulled a High-G turn to get behind one of the escorts, a Mig-21. I decided mid-way through the turn to go ahead and take the deflection shot with my cannon. I squeezed off a few quick bursts with the Vulcan, peppering the Fishbed into taking a slow dive into the sea.

"Splash one," Sky Eye called out, "Keep up the pressure Mobius 1."

"High copy, re-engaging," I calmly retorted as I reversed back into the chasing ball of fighters, I locked up two for my sidewinders. This time I didn't even need to call out to Thumper, who fired off the missiles straight into the intakes of the Fishbeds, sending them burning into the drink. "How many do I have now Thumper?" I yelled over the roar of the Phantom's engines, with my latest kills scaring off the rest of the pursuers.

"Like I would be keeping count!" he shouted back at me with feigned annoyance, "Just keeping dropping them like this and the war will be over tomorrow!"

"I wish," I grumbled back as scanned the formation again, picking up two more bombers to my 8 o'clock low, "How are my Seahawks doing?"

"Well, it looks like we're up two to nil, just starting the second half," I heard Hammer grunt back, "Still got a few bombers over here, but the escorts seem pretty happy screwing with the Chair Force. It seems like the Erusians prefer to pick on guys who don't really fight back. We'll try to free 'em up Butcher."

I laughed as I rolled into another attack dive, locking up my last two Slammers from long range.

"This is Allenfort AFB, we are under attack! Get the rest of the personnel to the bomb shelters, now!"

In response, I launched my missiles and pulled up hard, sling shotting them at breakneck speed towards the Bears, shooting them down in what seemed like less than a second. I watched the wreckage fall to the ocean, a strangely mesmerizing sight of the metal and everything else falling in a dance of death.

But in this moment, my carelessness was exploited.

MISSILE ALERT!

"Son of a bitch! Hold on back there Thumper!"

I broke hard into a tight, sweeping counter-clockwise turn, revealing the pursuer as a midnight black F-5. He looked and meant business, as he attempted a deflection shot of his own, landing several cannon rounds on my left wing.

"We're hit but still good!" Thumper called out, "Get his ass!"

The Tiger overshot and was pulling into a tight Chandelle. I used this opportunity to gain altitude and come into a barrel roll attack, gaining some energy over the Tiger in the process. I locked him up at my 12 o'clock about 1500 feet out with a sidewinder, but he danced his Tiger out of it and tried to line up another deflection cannon shot with a head-on attack. I broke from my run into a wingover turn, pushing my left rudder pedal hard as I reversed back onto the Tiger's trail.

But this guy was not taking no for an answer. As a last resort, he broke into a defensive spiral, circling ever lower towards the drink. I didn't perform the usual opposing pursuit in the opposite direction. I just closed in as much as I dared, almost to just under 400 feet. I wanted as much of him as I could fit in my canopy.

As we leveled out I unloaded on him with my cannon, sending fragments of aluminum sparking and flying in all different directions. Eventually, the Tiger's engines flamed out from my fire and the pilot bailed, sending the black bird dipping unceremoniously to the sea. I circled around the parachuting pilot and to my surprise he waved to me and gave me a thumbs up. I looked back to Thumper and he grinned, we both gave the Erusian a thumbs up. The enemy pilot nodded back as he glided down into the ocean.

"All targets are confirmed destroyed, good work Mobius 1," Sky Eye cheered with the relief heavy in his words.

"Allenfort is still operational. Our thanks goes out to the fighters up there. Whoever's kills were those bombers, I don't think I'm going to be able to thank you enough!" the tower operator called with tons of cheers in the background.

"All in a day's work tower. Glad to be of service. Let's scurry home Seahawks, I'm sure the Captain doesn't want us out past curfew."

Our procession of Phantoms turned back towards the Fort Grace, now battle-scarred and battle-hardened. The blue birds were darkened by the smoke and blasts, but they were still alive. They would live to fight another battle.

-0815 hrs.-

"Alright Mobius 1," the landing operator called out, "Let's get you home and squared away without any trouble, sound good?"

"Just ready to get out this seat Buzz. I'm calling the ball," I radioed back.

I lined my Phantom up on final approach a ways back from the Fort Grace, centering myself on the landing strip which always seemed a hell of a lot smaller than it was.

"I hear ya mate, roger ball. Alright….give me just a little rudder to the right."

I depressed the right rudder just enough to re-center, lining the bore-sight up with the deck centerline.

"Perfect, hold it there and keep your throttle right where it is. You are on the money."

"Roger."

I dropped the landing gear and the tail hook as we slowly dropped down to the deck. I made some tiny little adjustments to my position as we were a couple hundred feet from the deck and held my hand over the throttle as I waited for the signal. After a few more silent seconds, the rear wheels of the fighter hit the deck with an hard shake.

"Gun the engines!"

I throttled up to make sure that if the cable snapped I could escape back into the air without trouble. But, I had managed the landing without trouble, catching the first wire with no problems and bringing the Phantom to halt in short order.

"Perfect landing Butcher. You gonna put those kill stripes on today?"

"It can wait Buzz. Who knows how long the debrief's gonna be, knowing Chief…"

"Probably ages," Buzz added, finishing my sentence for me.

"Yup. I'll be sure and catch you and the guys for lunch."

"Sounds good, I'll see you around."

I taxied my bird off to the bow, with the nose facing off to the port side of the ship. To no-one's surprise there wasn't really any sort of celebration for what we had done. We had done what we were asked to do, and this was only the beginning of a long road to winning the war.

I popped my canopy open and climbed out with my helmet under my shoulder. As soon as I was down the ladder I gave Johnny and big hug and pat on the back, and he returned the gesture.

"Good flying Tom, you bastard!" Johnny said with a big grin.

"Couldn't of done it without you Johnny," I answered with a grin of my own as we handed the Phantom over to the plane captain, one of the 'brown shirts', and headed into the island for our debrief. I was praying it was going to be under an hour this time.

- _1045 hrs._ -

Of course the briefing did take about two and half hours, par the course. Most of this was due to the guy who gave our briefings, Commander Frank 'Chief' Redmore. He had been in the Navy for 25 years and made sure to inform us of the fact every day. He also had a tendency to rabble on tangents for what seemed like _forever._ He looked the part of a lifer Navy guy too, salt-worn tan skin, razor sharp brown eyes, a body set like a solid boulder, and perfectly in-regulation brown hair.

"The Air Force boys were complaining that you didn't help them when under fire today," Redmore spoke as he sat himself on the old wooden table at the front of the briefing room, his eternal abode, arms crossed. I couldn't really tell if he was annoyed or not, but I figured he was waiting for our input before he made a decision.

We all let out a concerted groan at the Chair Force's claim, with Dice unable to contain himself. It had seemed his first blood had not diminished his enthusiasm. I glanced over to Johnny who was staring at the ceiling in annoyance, mouthing 'Why do I have to be near this guy.'

Dice was the king of the jokers, a bleach blonde-headed, grey-eyed pain in the ass. He was always finding something to laugh at. In fact, if he didn't try to kill himself so much, we would've called him Joker. But, he had a passion for trying to get himself axed off, and none of us ever knew why.

After we all quieted down, the discussion turned back to the topic at hand.

"I'd say they made themselves rather useless, if you ask me," Hammer replied quickly, "They refused to gain altitude advantage at the beginning of the scrum and that endangered their pilots immediately. We did help them once we were sure that we were safe from tailing escorts."

Hammer laid himself back in seat, running his hands through his buzzed red hair and scarred forehead. Out of all the pilots of the Seahawks, Hammer definitely looked like someone made for the military. He was most muscular of all of us, had an extremely bony face, a boxer's broken nose, and the killer blue eyes to go with it. One time after we first got time off after training, people thought he was Special Forces because of how menacing he looked. But funnily enough, he was the most soft spoken of the pilots, but when he talked everyone listened to him.

"I see," Chief retorted placing his hand on his chin, "They filed their report as if they did all the work. I know you lot way better than they do, and I also received the reports from Sky Eye and Allenfort, so I figured it was rubbish all the same. But as you know…"

"We're a team in this conflict," the gathered group of airmen replied half-heartedly.

"That's right," Chief said with a hint of disappointment, the first time I'd ever really noticed him say it like that, "But moving on, it seems like Tom took care of everyone today with some fancy flying."

I just shrugged at Chief's compliment, "I did my job. Dice and Hammer did too, and made sure I could get all the bombers and a couple escorts without having too much of a problem. I'm just glad we're still alive to be honest."

The Chief just nodded back, a knowing, warm smile grew on his face as he looked around to all of us, "Sometimes that's all you need to do gentlemen. I think you lot are going to turn this war right around with the way you fought today. Dismissed."

We all stood at attention and began to file out of the room, but Chief pulled me over. I motioned for the rest of them to go on. We both sat down back at the front row of the briefing room, and I lazily glared back up at the drawing of the whole fight. The initial attack, my second run, the repulsion of the escorts, and the final battle with the Black Tiger were all up there, snaking through the board.

"You know you're going to get the Distinguished Service Cross, don't you?" the old man asked as he looked towards the board, "Getting ten kills on your first sortie, and the way you handled them being fresh out of the academy and thrown in the deep end…that's something that can't be trained."

"The rest deserve it as much as me. Especially Thumper. Once I got in there, all those nerves were gone. I just focused on it all…and it was easy," I spoke, staring down at my clutched hands and twiddling thumbs, "I don't want the medal. I just want to be left alone to do my job."

Chief didn't seem surprised at my response, "Wanting something and earning it are two different things entirely, Leftenant. You earned that medal, and whether you like it or not, you better get used to it. Otherwise things probably won't end up all right. You just keep up your job and you'll get home in one piece, ok?"

"Yes sir," I replied nonchalantly as I got up, offering one more salute. But Chief only held out his hand, and I took hold and shook.

"You saved us, whether they like to admit it or not. So, thank you Tom."

I flashed a smirk back, "You're welcome, sir."

I walked back out to the hall, my mind at ease and focused.

 _If they come again, I can stop them. There is no doubt anymore. Victory…is possible._

 _-Ten Hours Later…-_

The majority of the flight crew had turned up on the Hangar Deck for the official announcement of the day's kill scores. The whole atmosphere was quite a contrast to what it had been only hours before. Everyone seemed much more upbeat, more smiles and laughs, less gloom and doom. It was contagious, even the normally stoic Hammer had a bloody big grin on his face, and for a good reason. He had bagged six kills, along with Dice.

So, that made all of our jet combat pilots on the Fort Grace aces. Not a bad way to get ourselves up to speed.

I was off smoking a cigarette over at one of the openings looking out to the twilight coated sea, the orange light of the falling sun calling from the far western horizon, illuminating the seas with reds and yellows as it eventually became a victim of time. Johnny came over not long after the final sunset clutching a bottle of water in his right hand, and he looked lazily off towards the horizon, where the lights of Newfield began to shine out over the waves.

Johnny, or Thumper, looked like a kid fresh out of secondary school, with his neatly combed dirty blonde hair, and rather short and frail stature. His face betrayed that innocence, with a big, slightly bent and busted nose from his rugby days, wavy wrinkles on his forehead and well-defined lines under his eyes, one for each. Johnny had that stare too, the thousand yard stare all the kids wanted. But he earned his from his childhood, and even then he hadn't told me what happened. All I knew it was bad, properly, properly screwed up.

"You saved a lot of people today, Tom," Thumper began as he took a sip from his water, "They said the bombers didn't even kill a single person today."

"I hope that doesn't set a precedent," I replied with a grunt as I took one last drag from my now tiny cigarette and threw it over the railing and out into the water. I looked up to the darkening shattered sky and let my smoke climb up towards it.

"At least that's better than going home in a damn bag."

"Anything's better than that, mate."

"A-bloody-men,"Johnny laughed back, holding his water bottle up in an imaginary toast, "I hope we keep it this way."

"We just go out there, fire our shots, and go home. Beyond that there's nothing more to do."

"True. But the day is going to come when we're going to have to do more."

"Oh, you're Mr. Philosopher now," I snarked back, slapping him on the back of his head, "Enlighten me! Tell me the error of my ways!"

He just looked at me, his smile gone and I could almost see his dark past playing out in his eyes. My smile left me as well, and I turned my head back out to the sea.

"I didn't mean to scare you Tom," Thumper sighed as his drooped down, his eyes planted in a gaze towards the deck, "I've just seen too much, brother. As soon as we really get going, they're going to push us all somewhere we don't want to be."

"I got you, Johnny," I replied back giving him a soft pat on the back, but Johnny kept his gaze on the floor, not even stirring, "You got really snake bit, huh?"

"Yeah, unfortunately."

The call to assemble broke up our conversation, as we dropped everything and rushed over to the front of the procession to join Dice, Hammer, and their WSOs. We were all wearing our dress khakis, garrison caps, and I was wearing my G-1 standard issue black leather flight jacket, adorned with my squadron patch on the left shoulder, and the hand-drawn Seahawks insignia on the front. I had paid hand-over-fist to get one over the dumbass green Nomex jackets they'd been issuing for a while, and I was always glad I had spent the extra money since they looked ghastly on the Navy uniform.

The gathered group of Phantom crews separated ourselves into our respective crafts and stood out in front of the crew waiting for the inevitable shout of…

"Attention! Captain on deck!"

And so, out came our invincible Captain, Logan T. Nelson. His attire was his formal dress blacks and pale white peak cap. Nelson had been in the FCU navy for a long time, graduated from the FCU Naval Academy at Port Edwards almost 20 years ago. He had originally been a bridge officer on a cruiser, but changed to aircraft carriers and the Fort Grace had been his girl ever since. He had that weathered sea dog look much like Chief. However, he seemed a bit older with his grey, a bit more reserved and quiet with his bright blue eyes and small stature, but that didn't stop us from admiring him just the same.

"At ease, everyone," he called out, the separating of feet echoing loudly through the deck, "Today, our pilots have won a great victory in the fight to take back our homes."

 _Our homes…except that mine never was taken…_

 _I'm doing this now of all times? Get a life Tom._

"This is the first day of a long journey. Although we may not know when it will end, we know now that we can fight back, that the Erusians are not the invincible juggernauts the world thinks them to be." The Captain took a step towards us, taking a moment to look us all over with a calm, serious stare. "As of today, September 19, 2004, the ISAF command recognizes and confirms the aerial victories of the Naval pilots of the Fort Grace. Both Viper 9 and Rapier 8 destroyed six craft during the fight over Newfield Island."

The crew let out some hoops and hollers for them, and I slightly turned my head to see both Hammer and Dice nodding and holding their hands up in recognition of their cheering. But this was just the tip of the iceberg.

"Also," the Captain continued once the revelry had died down, "Mobius 1 downed ten aircraft during the mission, including the six Bear bombers intent on destroying Newfield and North Point."

The crew erupted into chanting and yelling, "Butcher! Butcher! Butcher!"

Thumper and I couldn't hold back our laughs as we turned to crew and waved to them.

 _Are we rockstars or something now? Jesus H. Christ….I don't think I can get used to this…_

After about five minutes, the cheering finally quieted and the Captain could continue.

"The ISAF is grateful for their duty, and thanks each and every one of you on the Fort Grace for getting them there and home safely due to your hard work and meticulous attention to detail.

Now everyone knew he added that on the end, because in these kinds of transmissions, the ISAF cared very little for the small guys who kept the heroes running. But Captain Nelson who had started as one of them, knew exactly the people responsible for it.

With his speech concluded, we all applauded for a moment, then came to attention again as he left for the island.

The crew then, 'forced' us to put our kill marks on our Phantoms. I decided that we should do the Erusian roundels in orange on the right intake. Within a few minutes, each of the Phantoms had their respective kills adorned on their bodies, now flexing their muscles as combat hardened jets.

Afterwards, we all buggered off to mess to have a beer and watch the football for a quiet end to the day. It would be the last we would have for a while.

* * *

 **AN/: Well it's a start, and I'm already feeling better just getting it out there to show you guys. It's been a much smoother fall semester in college, since I made a 4.0! So, it's been great to finally have time to really grind this out and get it going for you guys so you have some new stuff from me to enjoy. Even better, I finally give you the story I originally promised at the end of Hounds of War, for you loyal readers out there who remember that. Butcher has been an absolute hoot to write and I've got a lot of stuff planned for him, fun things mind you! And this story is going to play out quite different than to Hounds of War. This is going to be much more of Butcher's personal story along with his flying career, especially later on, with a ton more personal experiences given out compared to Erich. Anyways, I think that's enough babble from me for one chapter. Thank you all for coming again!**

 **Bis später,**

 **Karaya 1**


	2. The Few

**AN/: Chapter two is here already for your enjoyment! Have at it!**

* * *

 _"Great pilots are made not born...A man may possess good eyesight, sensitive hands, and perfect coordination, but the end result is only fashioned by steady coaching, much practice, and experience." Johnnie Johnson WWII 34 kill RAF Ace, and the most successful Western Allied Fighter Ace against the Luftwaffe._

Ch.2 The Few

* * *

-September 26, 2004 0800hrs.-

Quiet. That is the word that best described the time since the attack a couple of days ago. Very little happened. We were ordered to anchor off of Newfield for the time being, on alert for another possible bombing raid coming in from Rigley. But, incoming intelligence reports relayed from the Captain had scuttled that possibility. It seemed that if there was going to be an attack, it would be by a combat hardened Erusian squadron from the southern part of the continent. Yellows were out the question, since we were too far out of their range. It was a guessing game that no one of us really wanted to play.

So, all we could do was wait.

Impatiently.

"Another day, sitting on my ass waiting to not get bounced," Dice said as the members of the Seahawks met each other on the flight deck, almost everyone, for once, was in agreement with the hot-headed pilot. This part of the day was well entrenched within our routine, checking over the planes every morning, only to maybe fly a patrol for an hour every two to three days. To them, it was boring. They all wanted to be up in the air, eyes smashed into the back of their heads by the Gs, chasing Erusians for glory. All except for me. And Hammer, but he'd never say it.

I had felt similar sensations before when I was younger, and I knew when I needed to suppress that yearning for action. One of those times was now.

"Yeah, be happy you don't have to get killed today, Dice. If you bloody lot keep thinking like that all the time, you're going to actually get bounced and you're not going to like it too much," I spoke with an annoyed tone, as I walked with Thumper over to do the morning check on the old Phantom.

"Well I'd like it to be over sooner than later, if that's the case," Dice responded as he poked a cigarette into his mouth and did an inspection of the nose of his Phantom, "You're such a downer you know that, Butcher?"

"So I've been told," I said back to him, gritting my teeth together in frustration with a sigh as I climbed into the front seat of the Phantom, with Thumper down below checking the pylons on the wings. "I've started to get to your level of hatred of Dice," I whispered down to my RIO, and his face lit up with a shit-eating grin at my words.

"Now you're feeling me, eh?" Thumper chuckled as he rolled under the Phantom to check the front landing gear, "I swear I want to strangle him the majority of the time, only thing keeping him alive is that he is a decent wingman and element commander."

"Yeah, if we only we could get his head screwed on straight," I snarked back, but Dice overheard us.

"What are you guys saying over there, that I'm a piece of shit?" Dice laughed, "That _I_ can't hack it, or something along those lines?"

"Nah, just that you _could_ be a decent pilot, if you'd learn to shut the hell up, and listen to Butcher," Thumper responded as he pushed himself to his feet out from under our Phantom. I looked over to my left to see Hammer sitting in his seat rolling his eyes.

"They are going to kill each other at some point," Hammer said with a rather annoyed look, "Sometimes I wish they would go ahead and get it over with, ya know?"

"Yeah, but then I'd lose a damn good RIO," I replied as I looked back to their verbal dogfight, shaking my head, "Too bad they've got it out for each other."

Hammer just shrugged as he went back to his checks. I hopped out of my seat, satisfied with everything and then, a rather familiar face came over to us. A five foot, three inch tall, pudgy fellow with muscles big enough to choke a shark came over to us,

"What ta hell are you people doing over here, I thought pilots didn't get up 'til eleven in ta' mornin'!" The man exclaimed, eliciting laughter from us. This was 'Wild' Bill Jordan, the main aircraft mechanic on the Fort Grace. He was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed rapscallion who loved his alcohol and his rock n' roll music. He gave us pilots a lot of crap, mainly because he expected a group of pussies. He constantly told stories about the pilots who were on the ship before us being worthless on a regular basis, and that his harassment of us was to make sure we wouldn't end up being that way. He looked like a Belkan straight out of the old Osean War history books, just with a physique border lining on a midget-bodybuilder. He was from North Point and had an accent so thick, you wouldn't believe it until you heard it yourself.

"You know, one day Bill," Hammer's RIO, Sarah 'Blitzen' Connors, said, "When all of this is over, you're going to miss us."

"Aye, Lassie, you wouldn't know jack-shite then," Bill snapped back, "You better come out of this alive be'fer you make an claim as bold as tat."

Sarah was an interesting case. She was kind of flirty with all of us, Hammer never replied to any of it, well, he never replied to much in general, so I'm not sure what really says. She in particular had it out for me, and I had already told her I didn't want to be in a relationship with her back in advanced flight school. I didn't ever fully elaborate why. She was a…nice-looking girl, brown hair, green eyes, relatively small stature, and had a good personality for the most part. Sarah had cooled since I had told her my intentions a month or two ago, and had stopped her flirts to some extent, but still snuck one in here and there.

"Yeah, real cute Bill," Blitzen murmured as she hopped out of her RIO seat.

"Aww, you were hoping for more, weren't you _Blitzen?_ " Dice's RIO, Zachary 'Zeke' Park called mockingly.

"Shut up, you asshole," she snapped back.

"Whatever Blitzen, you know what I meant."

Zeke was one of the best RIOs that came out of the coalition's flight schools, he had an uncanny skill for it. He looked rather normal, standing at about five foot ten, brown hair, brown eyes, a square face, and a rather skinny frame. He had been Blitzen's 'rival' of sorts in RIO training, which Thumper had told me was a show for the ages. They both were desperate to show each other up, and went to rather extreme lengths to do so, devising more and more crazy scenarios to prove their worth.

"Oh, knock it off before I have to break up another fight, you two," Thumper shouted, "I don't think the Captain would appreciate you being in the sick bay for broken noses."

Blitzen and Zeke grumbled at each other as I shared a handshake with Bill.

"So, any word on us getting any new birds soon?" I asked the mechanic.

"Well, I think t'ere shuld be some comin' soon. I talked to the cap'n and he said we'd have ta wait sum more. Command are being a right pain in the arse, right now. I heard him get inta a pretty…ah, 'heated' discussion with Admiral Holland over ta horn. It was not pleasant to listen ta."

"I gotcha Bill. You think we can hold with these Phantoms for much longer?" I inquired, as the other airmen gathered around me.

"Well, if I can't keep tha bloody birds running, nobody could. I'll do ma' best, Butcher, ya can count on tat! But with them Erusians comin'…you lot are gonna have your work cut out for ya," Bill spoke as he looked around to all of us.

We all nodded solemnly as we headed back inside the island and down into the lower decks to the flight crew ready rooms. We all headed inside, as Bill trudged on to go check on something on the flight deck. The one thing I appreciated about this stupid tub was that the ready room for us was actually really nice. We had a decent stereo, recliner chairs, a couch, and a television complete with a DVD player which was a godsend. For myself, the was a nice place to catch up on my rest and relax.

As everyone settled into their selected pastime to wait for the patrol, I closed my eyes and went into a power nap.

 _How much longer do we have to wait?_

* * *

-October 5, 2004 0945hrs.-

The answer was another week. After sitting with our thumbs up our asses for a week, the geniuses running the show finally gave us the green light, dubbed 'Operation Harvest'.

The three aircrews quickly shuttled into the briefing room, with Chief waiting for us at the front of the room. We took our normal seats, and the briefing quickly began.

"Alright everyone, we have the green light to finally wipe out the bomber base at Rigley. We have a detailed brief here to show you," Chief stated as the lights went out, and he flicked on a projector, throwing a computer-generated terrain map up on the board with a dull hum.

"The enemy-held Rigley Air Base is located in close proximity to our front lines, making it the proverbial knife at our throat. A large Erusian bomber contingent was deployed to Rigley. Their intentions are clear—a full-scale strike on our forces at North Point is imminent. Your mission is to catch these bombers on the ground and destroy them. We intend to turn the parking ramp at Rigley into a junkyard," A pre-recorded voice spoke flatly as we took notes over the placing of the high-value targets.

"Now," Chief exclaimed as the room's lights returned in a flash, "There's a power substation en-route to the base. I suggest you take it out before proceeding to give yourself a slight advantage against the base defenses and the response time from the enemy fighters. Beyond that, I don't think there's anything else to cover. Good luck everyone."

We stood and saluted, and immediately made our way to our planes on the deck. We were getting a pretty heavy air-to-ground load out with a large amount of medium unguided bombs, so I knew we had to be on point and even better than we were over Newfield.

I climbed in the cockpit got the Phantom set as we started the engines and began rolling towards the catapult for takeoff.

"All readouts are good, bird's ready for showtime," Thumper said as he did a good luck bash on the canopy, "Let's get on the bloody offensive."

I smirked as we were locked onto the catapult, "Now we can make it count."

We were launched seconds later, and everyone was in formation after a few minutes over the open water.

"Alright everyone, set course for Rigley airbase," I ordered as the formation of Phantoms banked in unison, "Let's make these poor bastards feel the hurt for once."

* * *

-1030 hrs. In the skies near Rigley…-

We were paired again with the 'charming' Air Force squadron from our operation at Newfield. There wasn't any small-talk this time since we showed them up, and got their reports discredited. So now, they had everything to prove.

The weather had clouded up on us somewhat, hiding the sun and giving a intermittent cloak for us to hide with when the fighters would eventually enter the fray. The terrain was relatively flat, making

Sky Eye called for the operation to start on a watch sync, since we had about fifteen minutes before backup arrived, making the destruction of the power substation even more important.

"This is Mobius 1, I'm taking point to hit the substation. Dice, you're on my tail this time. Hammer, tag along with the others. We'll regroup over the airbase."

"Affirmative Mobius 1, Hammer is joining Omega squadron."

"You giving us a little handicap on purpose, Butcher?" Blitzen complained as Hammer's Phantom dropped away towards Omega squadron's Tigers.

"Dice here, I'm right behind you Butcher," the normally cheerful pilot sighed.

"Copy. This is Mobius 1, moving to attack the substation. Light up those targets, Sky Eye."

"Affirmative Mobius, marking targets. Mobius 1, engage."

All the reticles popped onto my HUD and radar screen, and the substation was locked in our sights. We dropped to about 3,000 feet and increased our speed to catch whatever anti-aircraft batteries there were around the station off-guard, but there didn't seem to be any as we closed in. I armed my bombs and lined up my pipper on the station.

"I've got a clean shot, pickle!" I shouted as I let one of the bombs fly, pulling up out of the run right after. A couple moments later, a large orange flash confirmed my hit.

"Confirmed hit by Mobius 1, Dice is engaging, pickle!"

 _KA-POW!_

A massive explosion then rocked the station, shaking us around a bit as our two Phantoms climbed up to angels 20.

"Damn, Dice! You must've hit something important!" Thumper said as he glanced back towards the fireball.

"Whatever it was, it sure wasn't just a power plant," Zeke replied with a sigh, "Doomed by their own incompetence."

"Alright, let's focus now. Roach, your guys need to keep the base's fighter garrisonoff us while we hit the bombers. How copy?" I called as I leveled out on the attack vector.

"Roger," he grumbled in reply, "Don't make me have to bail your asses out."

"You won't have to," I growled back.

Dice and I lit afterburners to get over the base and start raising hell. The explosion at the substation had definitely woken the Erusians up, and they were laying some hate into the atmosphere.

"We might be a little lucky and have put the base defenses onto backup generators," Thumper said pointing over to the row of anti-aircraft batteries, "If we go into a really steep attack dive right before we make our runs, coming in at low altitude, the guns will have trouble picking us up on low power levels." It was silent for a few seconds as I just looked back at Thumper in astonishment.

"What?" the RIO snarked with a sly grin, "Am the only one who actually studied how those guns work? They're basically the same as on the ship."

"I guess he deserves a little credit for that," Dice mumbled as I saw him fold his arms in defeat.

"Oh, _now_ I do?"

"Shut up!" I shouted back to Thumper, "Get us ready to go here. Hammer, how are we looking?"

"You're clear for now! Get going!"

"We are beginning our attack run Sky Eye," I called as I rolled into a high-angle dive, bleeding altitude fast as we closed into Rigley.

"Affirmative, let's start the offensive moves," Sky Eye replied, "Omega elements pursue all defense fighters."

I had little time to worry about the others as the tracers rounds began to fly our way. I was hoping that Thumper's wisdom was going to pay off, praying to whatever god was listening that a flak round wouldn't blow us to bits. Our Phantoms descended to about 2,000 feet before leveling out with quick maneuvering, and Thumper's prediction held true. The guns were still firing above us, allowing for the Dice and I to penetrate into the base's airspace without any further delays.

"Alright, open up the spacing Dice," I ordered as we lined up straight with the rows of Tu-95 'Bear' bombers, I was attacking the bomber row along Rigley's main hangar row to the left of the main runway, the control tower sticking out of the collection of nearby buildings, perhaps only a hundred meters away, "Alright, let's get this over with. Start the run!"

I descended just ever so slightly, lining up my targeting pipper just as I had before, and I released my bombs in quick succession, I didn't really bother with protocol this time around. I was moving pretty fast too, so I just blew over the bombers and explosions from my ordinance followed in my wake. A few buildings around the bombers crumbled down too. Dice had been just effective on the other side, with I then glanced over my right shoulder to see some fighters trying to take off the main runway. I knew if they got airborne it only meant trouble for us to mop up.

"Hammer, break off and crater those bastards on the runway! The Air Force can handle themselves for once!" I ordered as I did a quick armament check.

 _Out of bombs. Ready to get cracking on the flies._

"Affirmative Butcher, I'm coming in hot!" Hammer yelled out as he dove like a bat out of hell towards the runway, releasing a cluster of bombs at the taxing craft. They all vanished in a flash after Hammer climbed again towards the heavens, putting the runway out of commission for the rest of the fight.

"Nice work Viper 9, all the bombers have been destroyed, we've got new signatures moving in from the south, eight craft in total, signatures indicate fighters," Sky Eye said as the Seahawk elements reformed at 30,000 feet, "Mobius 1, Rapier 8, and Viper 9, keep the fighters off Omega so they can mop up base elements, over."

"Hammer copies."

"Dice copies."

"Butcher copies all, we'll get them bloody quick, over."

Not a moment later, I picked up the the fighters, a group of superior Mig-29 Fulcrum fighters, separated into two elements of four. They were riding fast up to meet us in finger-four formations.

"Thumper, be ready on the sidewinders, this is going to be quite the showdown," I chirped.

"Now, you're becoming Dice, eh?" He replied.

I laughed as I heard Dice howling over the comms with me as we began our maneuvers. Unfortunately, the Erosions had not concealed their attack well, allowing for us to have precious seconds to plan our counter. I snapped into a high Yo-Yo turn placing me in the leading trail position over two of the Fulcrums right as the Erusian elements began to disperse. Thumper fired a sidewinder at the Fulcrum furthest back, the well-placed missile smashed the fighter out of the sky. I shot under and behind the other Fulcrum, which he took as his cue to get some revenge for his wingman.

"Alright," I grunted as I turned hard to the left as he let off some cannon rounds which landing just a few meters behind me, "Let's see what you got!"

I performed a Split-S into the spotty cloud cover, daring him to follow. He kept us his speed and attack, desperately trying to close the gap to my Phantom. I pushed the stick down hard into a negative G dive, getting rather close to blacking myself out, and I quickly rolled the Phantom over to get us into positive Gs and back into the pursuing position.

"You ok, back there?" I shouted as I fired my Vulcan cannon towards the Fulcrum, making him swerve and slow.

Thumper didn't respond, and a quick glance back revealed my RIO passed out in his seat, head slumped forward.

 _This severely limits my options…unless…_

I jabbed the stick hard up, breaking engagement, and barrel rolled the bird a few times. It did the trick.

"W-w-wait…WOAH! WOAH! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!"

I quit my acrobatics with a quiet chuckle as Thumper recomposed himself. The enemy Fulcrum had ran off back to the scrum, forgetting about the dangerous opponent he luckily escaped, which allowed me to fire a sidewinder pot-shot at him. The Erusian barely even tried to avoid it, seeming incredibly surprised at the missile even coming from such a position. But, it was just another kill in the books.

"That's five fighters down, three to go," Sky Eye informed as each of us was now in another fight, "Keep up the pressure."

"I can do that!" Dice hollered as he destroyed a Fulcrum down a low altitude with an accurate pattern of cannon fire.

I had latched onto a third Fulcrum, the squadron leader, evidenced by his fancy sword with wings insignia, and the black number 1 plastered on the fuselage. He was pulled all sorts of fancy evasive tricks to get away from me. He liked the cloud cloak that I had performed on one of his compatriots earlier, but instead went for a much larger patch that was going to make tailing him a tall order. I kept my speed up as I followed him into the dense cover, the water began to streak all over the canopy as I had to focus even harder to keep him in my sights, but eventually he did a snap climb as was gone. I angled my nose up about fifteen degrees, just enough to get me out of the cloud with some altitude, only to find another Fulcrum dashing right at me.

"SHIT!" Thumper and I yelled in unison. I fired off my cannon in reflexive shock, which actually managed to down the fighter.

"Do you see that other one, Thumper?" I said as I was rapidly turning my head in every possible direction, desperately hoping to get a visual on the Erusian fighter before he got to me.

"No joy, " my RIO replied as Dice and Hammer formed up on my wings.

"Figured we could help you out," Dice declared in a rather serious tone, "That number one guy was chasing us too, but we lost him in the clouds."

"Alright, we stick together then. Vector us in on the bogey Sky Eye," I ordered as our formation turned towards a dense collection of clouds closer to the airbase.

"He's right on your nose, Mobius 1," Sky Eye disclosed as we double-checked with our own radar, "He seems to be moving in your direction."

"Alright, let's take the advantage guys, spread out just a little. We can probably draw him out," I said as our Phantoms climbed just over the clouds, and sure enough the Fulcrum darted out of one of them straight towards Dice.

"He's on us! Bogey at ten o'clock low!" Zeke announced as the fight continued.

Dice throttled into a hard dive, directing him away from the clouds as Hammer and I closed on the Erusian Fulcrum. The Fulcrum broke quickly, diving down towards Rigley at breakneck speed, with me the only one able to tail. Hammer redirected in front to make him break to the right over the runway, which I took as my chance to lead him and take the shot with my cannon. I squeezed the trigger, sending accurate hot lead into the Fulcrum's engines, destroying it in a sudden blast.

"All targets destroyed, all planes RTB, good work everyone," Sky Eye ordered, the AWACS operator noticeably more cheerful this time around, "That was some good flying Seahawks. I'm glad you're on our side!"

"Well Sky Eye, that's something you'll never have to worry about. I give you my word on that," I stated as sincerely as I could, with our Phantoms getting back in formation on the return vector back to the Fort Grace, "You can tell those Air Force guys they actually deserve kills today, they made that bomb run a cakewalk."

"Affirmative Mobius 1, will do. Have a safe ride home guys."

* * *

-1948 hrs. Fort Grace, 50 miles off the coast of Newfield Island-

We had our debrief with Chief, although it was significantly shorter than normal, shocking everyone. We did have our customary 'We're a team in this conflict.' retort as usual though.

The rest of the day went on with much less fanfare than the previous sortie. I had wandered off to my cabin to rest and regain my composure. The fight with 'Black 1' as we were now calling him had shaken me back into reality. There was no doubt that someday in the _very_ near future a whole squadron of guys like that would be on us, without the three-on-one advantage we were fortunate enough to gain on Black 1. My mind was just restless at just the thought of it and then there was the whole mess of the Yellow squadron.

The only things we knew about the Yellows were that they were best in the skies over Usea, with their squadron leader, Yellow 13, now beginning to enter comparisons with the Demon Lord himself. The Demon Lord just seemed like an untouchable myth, and the fact that Yellow 13 was getting to that level just worried me even more. I felt a huge, overbearing responsibility to protect my wingmen, my ship-mates, and the Fort Grace. I wanted to do something, but I wasn't even remotely sure where to start.

I made myself a cup of coffee in my room as I headed up to the bridge, dressed in my leather flight jacket, a blue t-shirt with 'NAVY' written on it in bold black letters, sweatpants and sneakers. The bridge of the Grace was deserted for the most part except for a few essential personnel and the Captain. I gave my greetings to the guys and headed over to talk to Nelson who was staring off the bow-side to the setting sun in the west. I set down my plain-white mug, still steaming slightly as I stood next to him.

"Can't really celebrate, can you?" Nelson said with a hint of glum, sticking his hands in the pockets of his coat.

"There's too much uncertainty right now," I replied, echoing his attitude, "I'll feel better when we're not the only hope of the ISAF."

"I'm looking forward to that day. I'm going to appreciate a calm cruise much more then, I think," Nelson smiled as he removed his officer's hat, setting it down on a table behind him, "We can't give up though. Even with all the odds against us, We just have to keep pushing our luck."

"I just can't wrap my head around why they haven't just rooted us out and blown us up already," I spoke as I took a sip from my coffee, "It's what I'd do and you could bomb the hell out of North Point within an instant."

Nelson nodded at my observation, and turned back to the sunset, "I think it's just luck. We took out enough over Newfield to stagger them, and hitting their bombers at Rigley and destroying a somewhat experienced fighter squadron probably has them second guessing themselves. I think they'll attack us eventually. More a question of when than if. But hopefully by then, we should have some real muscle."

"Some Tomcats would do a world of good, sir. Hell, just some more pilots and planes would make us a force to be reckoned with."

"You already are one!" Nelson chuckled as I thought back to the two battles, and he did have a point, "But, we're going to get Tomcats soon. I'm pushing for them, but you know that bureaucracy, Leftenant. It gets in the way at the most important moments."

"I understand, Captain," I sighed, as my head drooped down to my shoulders, coming down to rest on my hands as I rested against the little counter protruding from under the windows, "I want to be on first patrol tomorrow, and if possible, I'd like to get some dogfighting exercises in, Captain."

He looked me up and down and smiled, "No problem, Leftenant. I know it'd be too much trouble to get you off your bloody mission now. 0930 tomorrow."

I perked up at his approval and saluted as I rushed back to my room to prepare my gear for the morning. I was very excited at the prospect of getting us ready for tougher challenges.

 _Sometimes the greatest battle is to know you can and will improve. The challenge is to follow through on it. I'm ready to show those Erusians what I'm made of!_

* * *

-November 15, 1999 Mildenhall, North Point 2100 hrs.-

The world was a different place. Things I once thought were beautiful twinkles in the night sky rained hell on the world. Ulysses was what they had called it, the asteroid destined to destroy our planet. The world seemed to unite to destroy it, but even that was not enough. Some places like Erusea and Estovakia were crushed under the weight of the Ulysses's astronomical might, destroying history and life in its wake. It was far from that, only a few months after in North Point.

Our lives were unchanged on the island, despite the chaos the world now became accustomed too. I was just another twenty year-old university student, living another normal day back at home on vacation. My future that I was now living seemed impossible then, I should've realized my arrogance sooner.

I was sitting on the front porch of the old family home, the very one my great-grandfather Tuvia Linke had moved to 50 years ago, emigrating for better work than in the coal mines of Delarus. My father Andres Linke, still lived and worked in the town that gave the family a chance. Andres was a carpenter, like his father. Although a fairly developed town, many in Mildenhall still went to the old Linke house to buy his goods.

The night had been rather calm, with the snows keeping almost everyone inside. I sat bundled up outside mainly to get out of the house, being rather annoyed with being cooped up like a chicken for the majority of my vacation.

"You ok, Thomas?" My mother Dalia Byrne, called as she opened the door, bundled up even more than I, "I brought you some coffee." She handed the tonic over to me, and I gave her a hug as I returned to my gaze into the front garden and the street beyond it, cars parked silently. "I'm sorry your father hasn't been home. Something came up with a contract for a big company further north in Hertfordshire..."

"And he couldn't turn it down," I finished for her as I took a big swig of my coffee, "It's fine. I know him too well, who knows, maybe this time he could actually get the deal he's always wanted. To finally get out of this place and be well off."

My mother sighed at that, "It's too bad we keep having to live like that."

"At least we didn't get hit with an asteroid. Be thankful for that."

She chuckled slightly, "I am. I can only imagine if it came here..."

"I'm going to head to the square. I'll be back before midnight," I said as I brushed myself off. I finished my coffee and headed out the front gate.

"Alright! Be careful!" She shouted as I was already heading down the snowy street.

"I will!"

I lit a cigarette as I headed down the moonlit streets of Mildenhall, towards the small town square. Most of the pubs were around here, so it's the only pace stuff happened at night. I mainly just sat outside and enjoyed the weather most of the time. Unfortunately, the weather was much too cold for that. So, I went to the only pub I had ever been to my whole life. The Red Eagle. It was an old fliers bar, with names of pilots from wars long past burned into the ceiling by their cigarettes. I liked it for the homey feeling it had.

I headed inside to find the pub somewhat crowded at the bar. I just got a pint of beer and sat down at a table off some way and just sat there smoking my cigarette and slowly sipping at my beer. I took off my bundle of cold-weather clothes, sitting there with only a plain grey long sleeve shirt and some blue jeans. What was strange about all this, was for the first time, I noticed that girls were actually looking at me. I guess I was an infrequent enough customer that they didn't see me around. I didn't really care too much.

Until...one of the girls sat down at my table. Right across from me. She had long brown hair, a small, oval pale face, a little nose, and these bright green eyes. I swear she could see through to my soul with them.

"You're looking rather perturbed," the girl replied as she lit up a cigarette of her own, "I'm not surprised though. You're the guy that actually has something else to do. Unlike all these other jerks here."

"Well, I'm not really around here much," I spoke succinctly, "I'm just here for a week."

"University vacation?"

"Yup."

"Not surprising. You look the part of grizzled university veteran compared to the schoolchildren around here. I bet you have the PTSD to go with it."

I laughed at that comment, pretty hard I must admit.

"It's because it's true isn't it?" she asked with a grin as she placed her cigarette down on the ashtray.

"Yeah, it changes you, I must admit," I replied, "What brings you around here, Miss..."

"Jansen. Olivia Jansen," she stated as she held out her hand, "And you?"

"Thomas Linke-Byrne," I said as shook her hand, trying hard not to overdo it.

"Two last names?" Olivia spoke as one of her eyebrows raised in curiosity, "That's a bit unusual. Even for me, I admit."

"It's a long story. Mostly family bullshit to be perfectly honest."

"Well, I'd like to hear it sometime, and some more about you," Olivia added as she twirled her cigarette in the ashtray, "Maybe, tomorrow?"

"Not a problem for me."

"Alright then, eleven o'clock. Same exact place."

"Sure thing."

Olivia got up and put her coat on, "Now, don't forget and make me sit here by myself. I don't like being left on cliffhangers."

"I won't, I won't," I answered quickly as I held up my hands in my defense.

"Good," she replied with a smirk as she walked away from the table. Once I was sure she was outside, I almost had a minor panic attack.

 _Holy hell! Am I just that lucky?! Not one girl wanted to go out with me in school when I asked them, and now she just waltzes up and wants to talk and meet again. This is insane._

When I got home later, I couldn't sleep. It drove me nuts as I went over every detail of this encounter. It just shocked me that it happened, that silly old bloody Thomas somehow got a girl to go out with him. I was just curious to see just who Olivia Jansen was, as she was about me.

* * *

 **AN/: I actually stayed up incredibly late to get this chapter out, with the last part just popping into my head as, 'Wouldn't this be fun!'. So expect a lot more of Olivia to show up. I've already immensely enjoyed writing with Thomas and Olivia together. The dynamic is going to be fun to mess with for sure. As for my next update, I don't know if it's going to be another two chapter block, but it will definitely be within the next two weeks before I go back to college. I just can't believe how much fun I've missed out on not having something to give you guys for so long. I'll keep trucking to give you more. I've got too many ideas, that I can't just not share them!**

 **Bis später,**

 **Karaya 1**


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